


The B Team

by justcallmeasmodeus



Category: The Magicians (TV), The Magicians - Lev Grossman
Genre: Drabble, M/M, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-11-19 01:40:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11303103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justcallmeasmodeus/pseuds/justcallmeasmodeus
Summary: A weekend getaway based on the song B Team by Marianas Trench.





	The B Team

_You could want this, see if it fits for a bit and if you don’t like it, then you can go like you have been, and I’ll never tell, never tell, never tell how I fell for it, I never fell before._

The sudden silence caused Eliot to open his eyes. Margo stood above him dangling his ear buds and blocking his sun. She had her hip thrown out and a margarita in her hand.  
“Can I help you Bambi?”  
“I’m bored. Entertain me.” She dropped to the sand next to him, her hand raised to prevent any loss of alcohol.  
“A private beach on Lake George, endless sunshine,” Eliot took a sip of her margarita, “and an endless supply liquor, which could use more lime, and you’re bored?”  
Margo grabbed her drink back defensively.  
“Sorry Daddy, there’s just no one for me to fuck.” She pouted and gave him sad eyes over the rim of her margarita as she sipped it.  
“Well then go find somebody. I’m relaxing.” He laid back down and closed his eyes, smiling at Margo’s huff.  
“You’re as boring as Q.” She got up, tossing his ear buds back on his chest, and stalked off down the beach.  
Eliot placed the ear buds back in his ears, risking a glance at Q in the process. He was floating on a raft out in the lake reading a book. He was the only one Eliot knew of that could even think about bringing a book on a get away weekend, and it was part of the reason he loved him. Eliot let his gaze linger on Q and the sheer amount of his body that was exposed.  
Eliot licked his bottom lip as a thought crossed his mind. He pulled the ear buds out of his ears again and got up off the sand and grabbed a bottle of suntan lotion. He walked down to the edge of the water and used a recall spell to pull Q and his raft back to the shore. He was so engrossed in his studies that he didn’t even notice until Eliot cleared his throat.  
“You’re going to burn.” Eliot held up the bottle of sunblock.  
“Oh. Thanks.” Quentin reached for it, but Eliot held it out of his reach.  
“Let me, you’ll never get all of your back.”  
The mix of cold sunscreen and the warmth of Quentin’s skin sent Eliot’s head spinning more than a fifth of whiskey. He bit his lip as thoughts of what he would like to do to Quentin from this point of view. He calculated what would be an appropriate amount of rubbing and risked just a few more circles.  
“Thanks Eliot.” Quentin replied without looking up from his book.  
“No problem.” He pushed the raft back out on the lake with his foot. “Quentin Coldwater you are oblivious.”  
Eliot had never dealt with this before. He’d played cat and mouse, but never with someone who didn’t even know that he was in the game. Walking to the house and making himself a fresh martini, Eliot pondered the what-ifs of his daydreams. He walked back to his sunbathing spot and laid on his stomach. He put his ear buds back in again and hit play, but not before gazing at Quentin in the water one last time.

_3, 2, 1, you get right up and I’m the one done. You never say yes, not quite no, say just enough to make me not go. You choose your words, careful voice, in the end I’m not the first choice. You say you want someone just like me, so then why am I your, why am I your, why am I your plan B_

“Quentin, can you pass me another slice please?” The three of them were sitting in the spacious living room of their rental cabin surrounded by empty bottles of wine scattered about like fallen soldiers and three pizza boxes in various stages of deconstruction and consumption.  
“Sure thing El.”  
Quentin reached over with a greasy slice of pizza. Eliot reached for it, and their hands brushed. His heart fluttered, his breath hitched in the back of his throat and time slowed down. Quentin met his gaze and smiled, and Eliot swore that he could feel the neurons in his brain cease firing. He swallowed and realized that he’d probably been staring at Quentin for a suspicious amount of time.  
Margo’s laughter slammed Eliot back into reality.  
“Did you want a slice of the other pizza El?”  
Quentin Coldwater, oblivious to the point of being obnoxious.  
“No, this is good Q.” Eliot took a bite even though his stomach was in so many knots he wasn’t even hungry anymore.  
“I’ll tell you what Eliot really wants.” Margo slurred, dropping another empty bottle of wine on to the floor.  
“Margo, I think it’s time for you to go to bed.” Eliot stood up and tried his best not to stumble on the spinning floor.  
“I’ll get you a fresh drink.” Quentin got up and stumbled into the kitchen.  
“Margo what are you doing.” Eliot called out in a harsh whisper.  
“Moving things along. You’re doing a terrible job at it. Now carry me to bed Daddy.”  
Margo raised her arms in the air and Eliot sighed, picking her up. He carried her to her bedroom, and she was asleep before he had her tucked into bed. Eliot kissed the top of her bed and padded back to the doorway. As he closed the door to Margo’s room he heard the sound of breaking glass in the kitchen.  
“Quentin?!” He ran as fast as he could without stumbling, a million worst case scenarios playing through his mind. He expected to find a nothing short of a blood bath in the kitchen, with Quentin passed out on the floor, shattered glass around him, but instead Q was just standing there looking amusingly frustrated at the remains of a martini glass on the tile.  
“I’m okay. I just don’t know how to make a drink.”  
Eliot laughed as relief washed over him. This he could handle, this was comfortable and easy.  
“Well, first let me clean up this mess, and then we’ll start in on you.”  
Eliot grabbed a broom and carefully swept the floor around Quentin. He picked up the large pieces with long graceful fingers, mindful of the jagged edges. He could feel Q watching him with burning eyes, and he honestly didn’t mind. Once he was satisfied that all the glass was gone and he wouldn’t be digging any out of Quentin’s stocking feet later, he turned Q to face the table and stood behind him.  
“Now what were you trying to make?” Eliot asked, trying to ignore the alarm bells that his body was sending off from once again being in a semi-compromising position with Quentin for the second time that day.  
“Uh, gin and tonic?”  
Eliot couldn’t hold back the sigh and eye roll.  
“First of all, you were using a martini glass.”  
“I just grabbed a glass.” Quentin shrugged, brushing his shoulder against Eliot’s chest and causing Eliot to bite his lip. His self-control was wavering.  
“Tsk-tsk-tsk. A martini glass is for martinis. You use this glass,” Eliot reached forward, pressing his entire abdomen against Quentin’s backside, “for a gin and tonic. Now, do you want it dirty?”  
“D-d-d-do I?”  
Eliot’s heart leapt, maybe there was hope for Quentin yet.  
“Your gin.”  
“It was for you so, do you want it,” Quentin swallowed hard, “dirty?”  
“The dirtier the better.”  
Eliot leaned forward again, this time purposefully lingering while he searched for the olives that were exactly where he left them. Q’s body felt surprisingly sturdy beneath his, and Eliot’s mind was already calculating the number of times that he would need to reach forward.  
“Now, first you put in some olives.” Eliot reached around Quentin with his other arm so he could open the jar. “I like three or four.” He stood there for a few seconds before gesturing toward Q with the open jar.  
“Oh! You want me to, okay.” Q reached in with his hand and plucked out the olives one by one and plopping them in the glass.  
“You learn best by doing. Now put ice in the glass to the rim.”  
Eliot closed the jar of olives and slid them back into place while Quentin put ice in the glass. Eliot noticed that Q’s hands were shaking slightly, causing him to spill a few ice cubes out onto the counter.  
“Shit.” He reached for them, but Eliot put his hand on Quentin’s forearm to stop him.  
“Leave it. It’s just ice. Now, grab the gin and pour two shots.” Quentin reached toward the clear liquors, his hand hovering over a bottle of tequila. “Bombay, blue bottle. That right there is tequila, which you do not mix with olives.” Quentin unscrewed the cap and held the bottle at a slight angle above the glass. Eliot’s sigh caused the hair on the back of Quentin’s head to ruffle. “Fill to here.” Eliot held a finger against the glass to where two shots would measure out to, and he could feel Quentin tensing in front of him.  
“Like this?” He poured a bit more, but it was good enough for Eliot.  
“Looks good, now just fill the rest with tonic water. It’s the bottle labeled tonic water.” He could picture the eye roll the was surely happening in front of him as Quentin put back the gin and filled the rest of the glass with tonic water. “Now for bonus points in the future,” Eliot grabbed the glass and stepped away from Quentin and moved back onto the couch in the living room, “skewer an olive on a plastic sword and place it in the glass for garnish.” He took a long drag of the drink to calm his nerves.  
“Is it good?” Quentin asked, sheepishly walking into the living room behind Eliot and siting on the opposite end of the couch.  
“Let’s just say I wish I had me now to teach me how to make drinks back when I started drinking.” Eliot sipped the gin and tonic more slowly now, savoring the last half.  
They sat in silence for a few moments while Eliot watched Quentin fidgeting at the end of the couch. He picked at his nails and pushed his hair behind his left ear three times before he finally looked up at Eliot and opened his mouth.  
“Eliot, can we talk?” Quentin’s voice was even, but Eliot could tell it was a forced calm.  
“Lay it on me Q.” Eliot stretched out, placing his feet on Quentin’s lap. Quentin immediately began playing with his shoelaces and staring at his hands while talking at a break neck pace.  
“What do you think of Alice? I mean, I like her, and she seems like she’s a good person on the inside, but she’s just so intense sometimes. I invited her on this trip and she looked at me like I was crazy for wanting to relax a bit! Which maybe I am because I’ve mostly studied since we got here but it’s nice to just be away from the school for a minute you know? But I mean I like her, but I really want someone who’s… someone who’s not so intense and little more laid back. Someone like you who is just calm and so sure of everything an-“  
“Quentin.” Eliot said softly, causing Q to stop and look up at him. There was something in his eyes, hiding behind a wall of insecurity. Eliot thought he saw a younger version of himself there, but suddenly everything that he wished someone would say to him was gone from his mind. He couldn’t think of anything to say that would sound right, so he downed the last of the gin and tonic, took a deep breath, and sat up and kissed Quentin Coldwater right on the mouth.

_You know, you know, you love the way I linger and you keep me wrapped right round your finger. But you say, you say just wait a little longer, and in time I could be the right one. Please, I’m the B Team._

Eliot was expecting a few things to happen. Either A: Quentin would push him away with disgust, storm out of the cabin back to never be seen again, or B: Quentin would push him away, an awkward essence would in habit the space between them until the end of time, slowly pushing them apart. There was also option C, which was the best option that Eliot’s mind had come up with: Quentin would pass out, and not remember a thing in the morning.  
What Eliot was not expecting was for Quentin to lean into the kiss. He was not ready for the other man to lean forward and grab the back of his shirt in desperate fistfuls. He was not ready to held on to like a lifeline, or for the electric shock that spread through his body lighting his blood on fire and singing through his veins.  
Quentin’s lips were soft against Eliot’s tongue as he flicked it inside Q’s mouth and against his teeth. Quentin moaned into Eliot’s mouth, and Eliot placed one hand behind his head, tangling his fingers in the long hair and pulling slightly, causing Quentin to unclench his teeth. He quickly darted his tongue in and over Quentin’s. Eliot wrapped his other arm around Q’s back and pulled him close enough that he could feel Quentin’s heart pounding against his chest. Eliot’s longs were burning, demanding air, but he was scared that if they broke apart that the illusion would be broken and he would awake to find that it was all a dream.  
After a few blissful yet fleeting moments, Quentin pushed Eliot away. They sat staring at each other and panting heavily. Eliot moved in to kiss him again, but Q put a hand on his chest.  
“No Eliot wait.” Eliot wondered if Quentin could feel his heart breaking beneath his chest. “I’m not sure if this is what I want.”  
Only Quentin could have an erection straining against his pants and be unsure of what he wanted.  
“Quentin.”  
“No El, don’t ‘Quentin’ me right now, because I know what follows that. Some off the wall speech with your deep, smooth tenor voice that makes it sound like you’re the all knowing God of the universe.”  
“Q.” Eliot reached out to try and grab one of Quentin’s hands but Quentin stood up and backed away.  
“No Eliot. I just…” He ran a hand through his hair and over his face. “Give me some time.”  
With every step that Quentin took toward his room, a new part of Eliot cracked. He swallowed the burning lump in this throat and wiped away the rebel tear that dared to fall with the palm of his hand. He had been so close, he could still taste Quentin on his lips, and then it all went up into smoke.  
He got up and stalked down the hall to his room. As he passed Quentin’s he saw that the door hadn’t been shut all the way. He peered through the opening and saw Quentin sitting on the edge of the bed with his fingers to his lips.  
Some ember in very depths of Eliot’s heart began to burn a little brighter. He quietly padded the rest of the way to his room. He stripped down to his boxers and climbed into bed, reaching out and clutching a pillow to his body.  
“Fuck you Quentin Coldwater. Fuck you for being everything you are.”  
Eliot played back every moment that he spent with Quentin that day, up to the terrible ending to the biggest risk he had ever taken.  
“Fuck you for being my worst vice.”

_This could hurt some, but if we don’t never know what it’s worth to you. I saw you first do you remember? You played it well, victim sell, how I fell for it, I never fell before._

Eliot woke up as someone crawled into bed with him. He was too upset to want to face the harsh reality of the real world yet, so he just raised his arm for Margo to climb under and cuddle against him. He pulled her close to him and let himself drift back off to sleep.  
He was nearly back into the blissful land of his subconscious when Margo trailed her finger down his nose. He crinkled it and backed his head away, but she did it again.  
“Margo please.” Eliot tried to turn his head into the pillow, but Margo reached out cupped his face, running a thumb over his cheekbone.  
“What.” Eliot forced his eyes opened.  
There before him, instead of Margo, was Quentin.  
“I was thinking.” Quentin whispered, even though it was just the two of them.  
“Yes?” He fought to keep a nonchalant façade while his heart hammered against his ribs as if trying to escape.  
“I don’t want to hurt you.” Quentin looked down, unable to hold Eliot’s gaze. “But I want to try this.”  
“Quentin.” Eliot reached out and forced Quentin to look him in the eyes. “We’re only going to do what you want to do.” He wrapped his arms around Quentin and pulled him close.  
A peaceful silence settled over them, and for a moment Eliot feared that Q had fallen asleep. Suddenly Quentin reached out and touched Eliot’s bare chest, setting his skin ablaze. Eliot leaned his head back so that he could meet Quentin’s gaze.  
“Eliot.” His name was nothing more than breath on Quentin’s lips.  
Eliot bent his head down and placed his lips on Q’s, causing him to clench his hands, leaving red scratch marks on Eliot’s bare chest and back. They both inhaled sharply as Eliot once again plunged his tongue into Quentin’s mouth. Eliot ran his hands over Quentin’s body, stopping and giving extra attention to all the places that Quentin responded to the most. Quentin tried to copy him, but only succeeded in roughly grabbing onto Eliot’s arm and twisting his skin uncomfortably.  
"Dear God, are you a virgin?" Eliot asked, pulling away and placing Quentin's hand on his own hip.  
"No! I just... I've not done this before and I'm not sure what I'm doing an-"  
"Just shut up and let me drive."  
"But you don't have a-"  
"It's a metaphorical... you know what?" Eliot flipped Quentin on to his back and straddled him, blocking any further conversation with a kiss. “Just stop talking.”  
Eliot trailed his fingers lightly over Quentin’s chest, causing him to close his eyes and open his mouth soundlessly. Eliot leaned down so that his lips brushed against Quentin’s ear.  
“Breathe.” He whispered, causing Quentin to inhale sharply and buck his hips into Eliot’s.  
Eliot trailed his fingers down Quentin’s abdomen until he felt the tip of his member. Quentin’s breath whistled through his teeth as Eliot wrapped his fingers around his cock, rubbing his thumb in small circles of pressure over the cluster of nerves at the bottom of its head.  
Eliot watched Quentin’s facial expressions and used them to gage what he needed to do. He used his mouth an hands to bring Quentin to the edge of an orgasm, and then would stop and kiss him back down until Quentin’s body was trembling beneath his.  
Eliot took Quentin into his mouth, pushing forward until his lips were wrapped around the base of Quentin’s penis. He moved his head in a figure eight motion before starting in on a rhythm of intermixed long and short strokes. He could feel the muscles in Quentin’s groin tightening beneath him, and he began to move faster and suck harder.  
“Oh God I’m going to-“ Quentin gasped and clutched the sheets. Eliot pushed his head down as Quentin’s hips thrust upward and he came in the back of Eliot’s throat.  
Eliot swallowed and kissed his way up Quentin’s body until he made his way to his lips. He flipped them over so that Quentin was lying on top of them and continued to run his hands through Qs hair and kiss him until Quentin caught his breath.  
“Now, let’s see what you learned from that.” Eliot murmured, grinding his hips against Quentin’s. The smile on Quentin’s face was the best gift Eliot had ever been given.

_3, 2, 1, you get right up and I’m the one done. You never say yes, not quite no, say just enough to make me not go. You choose your words, careful voice, in the end I’m not the first choice. You say you want someone just like me, so then why am I your, why am I your, why am I your plan B? You know, you know, you love the way I linger and you keep me wrapped right round your finger. But you say, you say just wait a little longer, and in time I could be the right one. Please, I’m the B Team._

When Eliot woke up the next morning Quentin was gone. He heard the shower in his bathroom on and, figuring that it was Quentin, rolled over and buried his head into Quentin’s pillow, breathing in the smell of his musk mixed with sex. He was almost asleep again when he felt Quentin rubbing his back. He rolled over and pulled him down to snuggle, only to find himself snuggling Margo.  
“Hey Daddy. Have fun last night?” Margo purred, tracing over the scratch marks the Quentin left on the front of his chest.  
“Sorry Bambi. I though you were Quentin.”  
“That’s okay, you know I love some good smut before my coffee.” Margo forced her leg between his and snuggled up next to Eliot. “Now talk.”  
Eliot told her about the night, leaving some details for himself. They got up to get ready to go back to Brakebills, and while Margo was doing her hair and makeup Eliot made breakfast for the three of them. He walked back to Quentin’s room to wake him up.  
“I guess I better think of something to say, I’m already on my way, let’s get to the bottom of this…” Eliot trailed off singing as he opened the door to find an empty room with a perfectly made bed. “What did I miss?” He asked Margo as she walked up from his room.  
“Oh, Quentin left this morning. Alice came to find him saying she needed his help or something so he went with her. I figured that I’d let you sleep. Were you just singing Hamilton?”  
“Yeah.” Eliot’s heart sunk and his life was stormy again. He knew that it was too good to be true.  
“Are you going to eat El?” Margo asked, walking around him and heading into the kitchen.  
“No, you go ahead. I need to finish packing and putting everything back in order before we head back to the school.”

_You like to make me beg, yes, you like it. You like to make me beg, you do. Say just enough to make me not go. You know, you know, you love the way I linger and you keep me wrapped right round your finger. But you say, you say just wait a little longer, and in time I could be the right one. Please, I’m the B Team_

When Eliot and Margo finally returned to Brakebills all Eliot wanted to do was spend the rest of the day in his room with his flask, testing just how bottomless it was. He grabbed a few of Todd’s cakes on their way through the cottage, just glad that Quentin wasn’t anywhere to be found at the moment; he didn’t think that he would be ready to face him just yet. He was Eliot Waugh, people did not reject him or use him; that was his job.  
“Eliot wait thos-“ Todd started.  
“I don’t care.” Eliot headed straight upstairs, not even waiting on Margo.  
He slammed his door behind him, throwing his suitcase into a corner and throwing himself dejectedly onto his bed. He screamed into his pillow before blindly grabbing his flask off the nightstand and rolling over. He sat up when here heard crinkling. Tucked under his pillows he saw the corner of a letter. He pulled it out and saw his name scrawled across the face in Quentin’s handwriting. He tore the envelope open, his heart beating so hard he worried it would fly away without him.

**_Eliot,_ **

**_I really enjoyed last night. I can honestly say that I’ve never experienced anything like it. I just… I’m not sure what I make of it yet. I’m sorry that I keep leading you on. And I’m sorry that I left with out saying anything this morning. And I’m sorry… well I’m sorry for a lot of things, but I really hope that this doesn’t change anything between us. I still care about you so much. I hope that maybe we can have another getaway weekend soon. Maybe just the two of us next time? Or maybe Alice can come with us and it will be four of us. I’m rambling again aren’t I? Sorry._ **  
**_Love,_ **  
**_Quentin_ **

  
“Hey El, are you okay?” Margo asked, knocking on the door and causing Eliot to look up from the letter.  
“I’m doing fine enough to know that everyone’s a little broken.” He said, tipping his flask and handing it out to her.  
“Letter from Q?” She took a drink and handed it back, sitting on the bed next to him.  
“Yeah.” Eliot laughed sadly, shaking his head. “He said he hopes that it didn’t change anything about us, where as I’m over here hoping that it changed everything.”  
“Well, no one said you were the sharpest crayon in the box. Just the most colorful.”  
“How are you not helping and everything I need all at the same time?” Eliot laid his head in her lap as she began playing with his hair.  
“It’s just one of the many services I offer.”  
“I’ve just… I’ve never fallen for anyone the way I did for Quentin. I’ve never been on the B Team. I feel like a star player whose been benched for the foreseeable future.”  
“Well, when you break your neck falling it love it does throw a wrench in things.”  
“Margo please.”  
“You just have to let him think about it. Ibiza is coming up soon, that will help take your mind off of things.”  
“I hope you’re right.”  
“Aren’t I always?” Eliot rolled his eyes and grabbed the cakes off of the nightstand.  
“Do you want a little cake?”


End file.
